Oblivion
by CretianStar
Summary: Someone's got to make use of the cleaning cupboards. Test their purposes... right?


A/N: Yeah I wrote this in a train station and then on a train. Writing smut on a commuter train is **not** my wisest idea, but enjoy it!. Someone's got to christen all the rooms on the ship right?

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><p>"Clint we cannot do this." Natasha murmured out of the corner of her mouth as the pair strode through the metal corridors.<p>

"We can and will." They glared at the new recruits that scurried past, awed by the fearsome duo.

"Clint." She hissed and watched as he scanned the now empty corridor before dragging her into a supply cupboard. Her back slammed into the shelving and she felt his body press to her front.

"Why'd you do these things to me Tasha?" Clint grunts as one of her long legs wraps around his waist closing all space between them.

"Because I can." She whispers between kisses, feeling her body melt at his touches.

"That's not the best reason." He mouths her neck, cursing the skin tight cat-suits but thankful for the easy access zip if you knew where it was. She just laughs, eliciting a growl from his throat.

"It's because I like watching the cool Hawk vanish." She purrs. He nips hard at her throat when she answers, her response is to rake her nails across the bared shoulders and biceps. "Besides." She continues when his hips grind into hers. "It's nice to have sex with you when neither of us are broken. Now I get to break you." Her fatal fingers have moved to his scalp, guiding him lower with the iron grip on the short strands.

His fingers mark the course first, the zip worked to her navel, the fabric splitting to reveal creamy breasts. No matter how many times he saw them Clint can never not marvel at the perfect nature of them. Sure they were scarred but who wasn't in SHIELD. The scars simply mark kill shots that missed. If he was in the right frame of mind he could list off each scar dating each blemish but he wasn't and all he cared about was leaving purple marks across the expanse of skin bared to him.

Tasha had managed to undo his shirt, uncovering the rippling muscles that she adored and was busily reacquainting herself with them, feeling the burns and scars on his own body. She was so absorbed in tracing each mark, feeling each muscle cord and strain under her touch that was barely aware her suit was now pooled at her feet. It was only Clint moving her underwear that tore away from mapping his body.

"Sneaky." She panted, nails once again biting into his shoulders. She hears him chuckle, his breath vibrating against her breast, her nipple puckering in response.

"Are you telling me that _I _got the drop on the great Natasha?" She can hear the smugness but she's too far gone to care.

"Don't stop." She growls when his fingers brush that bundle of nerves.

"Yes love." His voice hoarse in her ears, he easily supports her weight now she's stepped from the tangle of clothing and wrapped herself around him. His pants have vanished somewhere along the line but Tasha doesn't think she just wants to feel. He's hesitating and she almost snarls in frustration.

"Clint." She means to order him into fucking her but her tone is that of a breathy whine.

"Fuck Tash." He chokes out and fills her instantly. It worked better than any command which momentarily stuns Tasha but not for long as he snaps his hips into hers and her mind just sinks. It sinks into a bliss that Tasha feels with no-one but Clint. She never feels it with a mark or even an average Joe that she occasionally takes when her and Hill are on the pull but it's only Clint that can make her forget everything.

Which is exactly what he's doing now. She's vaguely aware of the shelves digging into her neck, spine and hips but the focus of her body is on the gorgeous agent that makes her want to scream. He's smothering her moans with kisses, breath mingling, gasps too loud to their own ears.

"Clint." She can feel the pressure building in her body. "Please." She's reduced to babbling mantras, anything to fall off the precipice that she's currently clinging to.

"Tash, come for me." The husky growl is partnered with erratic deep thrusts and it's his voice that sends her over the edge and he clenches his teeth at the feel, sight and noise of Tasha coming undone. His willpower doesn't hold out and he joins her in the temporary euphoria, the oblivion melting their minds and their identities.

There was no Hawk and Black Widow, there wasn't even Clint and Tasha. Just the two of them in silent love, respect and lust.

Oblivion is kind to them.


End file.
